


Ask Me When You're Sober

by poetsandzombies



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Drunk Steve Rogers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetsandzombies/pseuds/poetsandzombies
Summary: For the common prompt: person A is drunk and accidentally breaks into person B's house.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony is wide awake when he hears the soft rustling outside his apartment; he's curled up in a chair and hunched over the desk in his room, furiously scribbling down notes from yesterday's lab experiments. It's three in the morning, past anyone's bedtime, but he dismisses it, afraid to lose his train of thought before he gets it all down on paper. The noise becomes more frantic, however, and suddenly dissolves into a loud crash  _inside_ his apartment. 

Tony jolts from his position, panic rising in his chest. Moments pass before he swallows, tries to listen past the loud thuds of his beating heart, and decides that there's definitely someone in his apartment. He scans the room, dismisses any thoughts of escape (his bedroom window being jammed), and instead opts for a wrench he sees on his bed. He makes a note about the unhealthy overlap between work and home before gripping it tightly in his hand and tiptoeing down the hall towards the living room.

The first thing he sees when he enters the room is the source of the crash; a lamp knocked over by the window, now in pieces on the floor. Another noise reaches Tony's ears and his eyes travel from the mess on the floor up to the man currently standing in his living room. He is taller, blonder, and more built than Tony and in a moment of shock, he lets the wrench slips from his hand. The clamor of metal hitting hardwood floor causes the man to spin around; he looks just as surprised to see Tony as Tony is to see him. 

"What are you doing in my apartment?" 

Tony is startled to hear the question coming out of the other man's mouth and not his own, but as the confusion on his face becomes more evident, Tony's fear for his own safety starts to dissipate. The man's size is more than intimidating, but his face holds all the ferocity of a puppy.  

"I could ask you the same thing," he responds, amused. The man's frown deepens.

"Sorry?" 

"You're in  _my_ apartment. Wonder why you couldn't get through the front door? I live here." Tony watches his face contort into more confusion until finally he puts a hand on his forehead and falls back on the couch.

"I think I'm drunk." He says, tone unapologetic.

"Think?" Tony asks. He shrugs.

"Never been drunk before. My friends..." He trails off, looking towards the window. 

A moment of quiet passes and finally Tony takes a deep breath and walks over to the man, sitting down on the coffee table across from him. From this distance, he can see the dopey expression and half-lidded eyes; this guy isn't just drunk, he's  _wasted_. Sending him away in this condition could potentially put him in danger.

"I'm Steve," He says suddenly, giving him a soft smile. Tony fights the sudden urge to smile back.

"Hi, Steve," He says, similarly to how he'd speak to a child, "I'm Tony." 

"Tony," Steve echoes, leaning into his space "If you wanted to kiss me, Tony, you could." 

"Charming," Tony responds, leaning away. Steve may look like a dream, but he smells like the bottom of a liquor bottle. 

"My friends want me to 'put myself out there.'"

"Maybe not the best time, buddy. Do you know your address?" Tony asks. Steve nods, and Tony shuffles around until he comes up with a pen and notebook paper. "Write it down, I'll punch it into my phone and see if I can get you a ride home, okay?" 

Tony is relieved to have left his phone back in his room, shaken up by this event and wanting a moment alone. His calm demeanor collapses once the bedroom door is shut behind him and he closes his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. It could have been worse.  _So much_  worse. Still, it reminds Tony of just how vulnerable he is, a feeling he isn't comfortable in. 

Composing himself, Tony finds his phone and quickly copies the scribbled address into google maps. The results are met with dread; before Steve had given him his address, he had hoped he lived in the same apartment complex and just got the rooms confused. Turns out, Steve doesn't even live in the same neighborhood, he lives  _30 minutes_  away. It's already approaching 4 am...

"Jesus, Steve," Tony says to himself, "how did you get here?" 

-

Throwing every ounce of faith he has at his own gut instinct, Tony gathers up some extra blankets from the hall closet.

"You're in luck," he calls out as he heads back towards the living room, "I actually did laundry the other day, so-" Tony cuts himself off when he enters the room. Steve is now sprawled across the length of the couch, feet dangling over the armrest, an arm slung over his face. He's snoring. 

Tony shifts awkwardly for a moment before deciding  _what the hell_  and making his way over to cover the man up. Steve looks different like this, sleeping, and Tony wonders what he might be like sober. He shakes the thought away quickly, however, tosses some blankets over him just so he doesn't freeze, and heads back to his room.

He locks it behind him. 


	2. Chapter 2

"I can pay for the lamp." 

Tony looks up from his notes at the kitchen table to see Steve, hovering at the entrance. The offer sounds like an apology he can't say.  

"It was an old roommate's," Tony says, waving a hand dismissively. 

Steve looks sober now, and deeply uncomfortable. Tony had woken up a few hours earlier and decided to move his work somewhere he could keep an eye on him. He'd been completely knocked out then, giving Tony time to fix a pot of coffee and finish up the work that had been interrupted the night before. Now that noon's approaching, he's just relieved to see Steve alive.

"Do you want something to eat? I have... well, I can order something." He offers. 

"Thank you, but I'm mortified, and I'm going to go." Steve runs a hand through his hair, cheeks pinking; at that moment, Tony genuinely _is_  charmed. Steve is clearly not used to being on this side of an awkward situation and doesn't know how to handle it. Fortunately for him, Tony is all too familiar with the feeling.

"If it helps, I used to drink fairly heavily and fairly often and this wouldn't even make the top ten list of embarrassing things I've done drunk," He says. It's something personal, but it makes Steve smile, and he deems that a win. Besides, it's easier sharing with strangers you know you'll never see again.

"Well, thank you. For not calling the cops, and for letting me crash on your couch. I'm uh... thanks." 

And that's it. In the next moment, Steve is shutting the door behind him and quiet is taking his place. Tony isn't expecting anything more; Steve had no reason to stay, and Tony couldn't think up a reason to keep him here. But Tony never had people in his apartment, not even friends, and the absence of the man makes the aloneness that Tony is so comfortable in suddenly feel lonely.

He pushes the feeling aside and turns back to his work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's voicemail inbox, 4:32 PM:
> 
> "Hi, Tony. It's Natasha. I know your lab has a lot on its plate right now, but I was hoping you had room for one more project. If you still have those designs you were working on a few years back for advanced prosthetics, I have a coworker who could use the encouragement. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. Call me back. Thanks."

**Author's Note:**

> This may become a series as I write more short bits and explore more of this alternate universe, but I'm not dedicating myself to a time-sensitive story w/ consistent updates bc I'm notoriously bad at that.


End file.
